Torchwood 8
by jennibert
Summary: The year is 2024. Torchwood now has offices not only in the UK, but in the US and Canada, watching over smaller rifts that appeared after the closing of the Cardiff rift. **Future setting, canon compliant (except for possibly MD, as I haven't seen all of it). Torchwood and Doctor Who belong the BBC, etc.
1. January 2024

Jack Harkness took a sip of his coffee and let out a sigh. _Perfect. Even Ianto would approve_. A flash of pain accompanied the thought, something that could still be brought on by such things as a perfect cup of coffee or a pair of eyes just the right shade of blue. But it was happening less often now than it had before, now that his Ianto had been gone for more than fourteen years.

Jack opened his eyes and met the patient stare of the man across from him. Arnold Wright was in his late forties but looked ten years older, thanks to the wrinkles that covered his dark face and the gray beginning to twine through his short black hair. He'd never met Ianto, but he had known Jack long enough to know that a really good cup of coffee needed a moment of silence.

"All right, Arnie, what's up?" asked Jack after he'd swallowed back the worst of the pain.

"Someone's been in my servers."

"And you chose to tell me this in a coffee shop?" asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure they're a threat. More like a series of pranks." Arnie's expression was sour. "Last week, Rice turned on his computer to find the desktop background had changed to a field of daffodils." Jack snorted, picturing the dour technician's face. "We had a case down at Busch Stadium last week, and someone did a 'find/replace' to substitute 'rugby' for 'baseball' in the official report. Brenna keeps finding pictures of dragons throughout her electronic archives. She's the only one who finds it amusing…other than you, apparently." Jack tried to control his snickering in the face of Arnie's dark look.

"This is serious, Jack. Whoever it is hasn't done anything yet, but they very easily could."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but paused as a young woman approached carrying a pair of plates. The waitress was slightly tall for a woman, with a slim build and pale skin. Her eyes were a particular shade of blue, set above an adorable button nose. Jack's breath caught in his throat.

"Tropicana for you, Mr. Wright," she said in an accent that had once been as familiar to Jack as his own. "And a Monte Carlo for your friend."

"You're a long way from Wales," managed Jack with a ghost of his usual charm. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, and Jack blinked at her as his heart clenched.

"Very good, sir. Most Americans take me for English."

"I lived in Cardiff for a while. What brings you to St. Louis?" Though his mind was sluggish, Jack had managed to recover his composure well enough to pull on his usual flirtatious mask.

"I attended Washington University. I'm out now, looking for a real job here in town. If you or Mr. Wright know of anyone who could use a computer engineer, please pass it along." She nodded politely. "Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen."

"I eat here every morning, and I never knew Sam was Welsh," commented Arnie. "But going back to the problem at hand—"

"This is incredible!" interrupted Jack as he took a bite of the crèpe that the girl had delivered. "Why have you never brought me here before?"

"I believe your exact words were 'If I want a crèpe, I'll just go to France.' But seriously, Jack. I've got a hacker."

"And what's Rice doing about it?"

"He's more of a hardware guy. He's okay with the software, but this person is running rings around him. I was hoping that maybe we could borrow someone from New York or Los Angeles…"

"Andrea's the best in New York, but she's eight months pregnant. She might be able to run something from there, but she's a bit distracted at the moment," said Jack around mouthfuls of strawberries, coconut, and pecans. "And though Rice isn't perfect, he's better than Jin in Los Angeles." He hadn't had a really good technical person since Tosh, nearly fifteen years dead. "Why isn't your whole team eating here?"

"Because I prefer to eat my breakfast alone. The only ones from St. Louis are Brenna and Frankie, and even they don't know about it." Arnie smiled tightly, spearing a forkful of ham and pineapple from his own crèpe. "On topic, Jack."

"Someone's stalking you. Not always a bad thing. One of the best people I ever had basically hired himself." Ianto was so much on his mind already, between the coffee and the girl with the Welsh accent who bore him an uncanny resemblance.

"More coffee, sir?"

Jack actually choked as she appeared at his elbow as though he'd summoned her with his thoughts. _God, just like Ianto used to…_

"Yes, thank you, Sam," said Arnie. "And some for my friend as well," he added as Jack coughed.

"You're later than usual today, Mr. Wright," she said as she poured.

"Late night last night, plus Jack here had an early flight."

"This is better than the last time I was in France," said Jack.

"Thank you, sir. I'll pass that along to the owners. And now I'm off shift, so if you need anything, just ask Alicia." She indicated another girl across the way. "Enjoy your day, Mr. Wright, Captain Harkness."

It wasn't until Jack had scraped the last of the caramel-like sauce from his plate that the obvious occurred to him. "Arnie, did you tell that waitress my surname?"

TW TW TW TW

Samantha Gordon walked down Forsyth, headed home after her shift. It was the better part of a mile to work, but since parking in downtown Clayton, Missouri, was always terrible, she found it easier to walk. And today she had plenty to keep her mind busy as she did.

It had been a risk, calling him by name. After all, though she knew he was the head of the multinational Torchwood Institute, she'd never actually seen a picture of Captain Jack Harkness. But the man with Arnold Wright had matched the descriptions she'd heard—tall, dark-haired, gorgeous American wearing a Royal Air Force greatcoat. He was younger than she'd expected—she knew he'd been in charge of Torchwood Three in Cardiff for years before reforming the organization after the Miracle, and the man she'd seen today couldn't be more than forty or forty-five—and that only if he was quite a bit older than he looked. But she'd done it, and now she had to wait and see if they had the wits to figure it out.

"Val?" she called as she entered the two-bedroom flat she shared with her boyfriend. There was no response, but she hadn't expected one. Valentin Sekherov was finishing his doctoral thesis in physics and was often in his lab, but even when he was home he could be so buried in his work he wouldn't hear her. She poked her head into the second bedroom that they used as an office, pleased to find him there. He'd resurface at some point, talk to her a little, eat the sandwich she'd brought home for him. She stuck it in the fridge for the moment then settled down with her computer. It was time to check on Torchwood.

Sam slipped effortlessly into the Torchwood mainframe through one of several back doors that their tech guy had yet to find. He'd been looking, of course, and he had managed to close some of her access points, but she could still see what she needed even if he had made sure she couldn't mess with his desktop wallpaper. He hadn't protected his coworkers' computers as closely though…she selected the station that belonged to Francis Hilliard, formerly of the St. Louis PD, and changed it to a field of leeks. If the previous attempts didn't tip off Captain Harkness, that should finish the job.

Amusement done, she made a quick run through the system to see if she'd lost access to anything else. The archives were protected now, so no more dragons, but covering that had left a hole in a different system, letting Sam into something she hadn't breached before—the GPS signals of the trackers worn by each member of the team. They were labeled with initials rather than names, which was still more than she'd had. One thing that was locked up tight was personnel files. She'd gotten Hilliard's name from police records, Arnold Wright's from his phone when he'd been at the café, but the others she had only guesses for.

It looked like Wright was still in the café, presumably with Captain Harkness. Four members of the team were in what she presumed to be their base, tucked beneath the office buildings and shops of Clayton only a few blocks from the old house on Forsyth in which she lived. The sixth seemed to be at the police station for University City, another nearby suburb. That combined with the initials meant it was probably Hilliard. She left that screen up with an idea of locating one of the doors to the base—both Wright and Hilliard had been very careful going in and out, and though she knew which office building concealed the entrance, she wasn't sure exactly where it was.

She played for a while, exploring how much access she could manage on the mainframe, until Val called her name.

"Hey, Sam. When did you get home?"

She glanced at the clock on her computer and rolled her eyes. "About two hours ago."

"That long, huh? Don't suppose you brought me a crèpe?" he asked hopefully.

"They don't keep two hours, Val. You would have had mush." She smiled up at him. "There's a sandwich in the fridge."

"You're the best, Sam," he said, leaning in to kiss her. As he straightened, he glanced out the window behind her. "Huh. I spotted that guy from my window a good fifteen minutes ago, and he's still there."

"What guy?" asked Sam, trying to conceal her excitement.

"I don't know who he is, but that big old-fashioned coat is really distinctive. Pretty cool, too."

"Tall, dark haired, about thirty-five? Possibly accompanied by a black man in his fifties?"

"Looks a little like Tom Cruise hanging out with Danny Glover," agreed Val. "Why do you know that? Should I be jealous?"

Sam's face split with a wide grin. "Remember I said I was working on the perfect job? Well, I think I just passed my first interview. That's the head of the corporation, accompanied by the head of the local branch. I have to change." She kissed Val and dashed for the bedroom.

Five minutes later, Sam walked down the front steps of her building dressed neatly in her best suit. Jack Harkness and Arnold Wright looked up as she approached.

"Samantha Gordon," greeted Captain Harkness. "I believe I met your father a few times at Torchwood One."

"Good day again, Captain Harkness, Mr. Wright. I see you got my invitation."

"Pretty cute, setting up all of those references to Wales."

"I knew you would understand them, sir, having been head of Torchwood Three for a number of years."

"And you did some impressive work with the server at your place of employment, also. I've never before met a coffee shop whose files I couldn't get into."

"That's what I do, sir. What I could do for you and Mr. Wright."

"So you've been priming me for months, just waiting for Jack to show up?" put in Mr. Wright.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to mislead you, but my research suggested that Captain Harkness would be the one more impressed by my skills."

Captain Harkness grinned, and Sam found herself a little dazzled by the full force of his smile. "All right then, Ms. Gordon. Impress me."

"I graduated _summa cum laude_ from Washington University with a dual degree in computer engineering and chemistry with minors in astronomy and—"

"And accounting," concluded Captain Harkness. "You live in apartment 203 with your boyfriend of three years who is getting a doctorate in physics. I may not have made it into the coffee shop's files, but the university's aren't that hard for Torchwood. I could also quote you the number for your work visa and inform you of your mother's address in Swansea. I'm interested in the things that _aren't_ filed in a computer. What makes you worth my while, Ms. Gordon?"

"I got into your systems. Just because all I've been doing is pulling pranks doesn't mean that's all I can do. For example, Francis Hilliard uses the name of his street as his password. There's a lot I could presumably do with that access, none of which I have touched." Harkness's expression didn't change, though Wright looked a little put out. "I'm also fully qualified with most firearms, and I have basic first aid skills. I have the technical skills of a hacker combined with the qualifications of a field agent."

"Why, Ms. Gordon?"

"What?"

"You have gone to a lot of time and trouble to search out the organization in whose service your father died. Why?"

"Because they saved my life," blurted Sam. Harkness blinked. "After Dad died, my mam and I moved to Cardiff. She worked as a dispatcher for the police and knew you all by sight if not name. So the night that there were explosions across the city and all of the Weevils were out, she knew who it was that saved us."

Harkness's face was impassive, but she could see something in his eyes. "Who?" he asked softly. "Who saved you?"

"There were two of them. The woman was Asian, Chinese or Japanese I guess. She was favoring one arm, but still waving her gun with the other. The man was Welsh and well-dressed—a three piece suit, but it didn't stop him from getting right in the Weevil's face, yelling at us to get back. We'd been visiting friends and were on our way home. We were able to get inside a shop and waited until they were gone, but we wouldn't have made it if it weren't for Torchwood."

As she spoke, sadness came into his eyes. "She died that night," Harkness said softly. For a moment he was silent, then looked at her sharply. "How do you know about Weevils?"

"Dad was studying them. Mam was at Torchwood One before I was born, so she had the clearance to know about things. She recognized them, explained some of it to me later."

"Why St. Louis?"

"I first broke into the servers in Cardiff before I started at university." He raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't get much, but I could get a basic outline of what the branches were there for. Since the closing of the Cardiff rift, Torchwood Three has been much quieter. The London, New York, and Los Angeles offices deal with some activity but seem much more about politics. Calgary and St. Louis are more about action, dealing with the smaller rifts that appeared after the Cardiff rift was closed. That's what I want, and since my dad's family is from Springfield, Illinois, St. Louis seemed the better choice of the two."

"So you want to be a field agent," said Harkness. "Fine. Arnie, when's your next predicted rift event?"

"Tonight. 8:17."

"Good. Meet us in front of your cafe promptly at 8."

"Yes, sir," managed Sam as Harkness turned and stalked away, his great coat flowing out behind him dramatically. She managed to make it back into her apartment before letting out the whoop of joy.

TW TW TW TW

The girl was prompt—another way she reminded him of Ianto. She hadn't worn the suit though—practical, but rather a shame as she'd looked good in it. But he couldn't complain about the current attire either, though it smacked more of Gwen or Tosh than Ianto—tight jeans in dark blue, thigh high boots and a figure hugging knee length coat, both in black leather. The shirt was blue, just the color of her eyes. _She should have worn red. I bet she'd look good in red._

"Looking good, Ms. Gordon," he said appreciatively as she approached, and then his breath caught as she merely arched an eyebrow instead of deigning to reply.

"Captain Harkness, Mr. Wright," she said politely. "Officer Hilliard."

"Frankie's fine," came the former cop's reply. He was tall and broad, his blond hair cropped close and set off by a trim mustache. Jack liked the young man, even if he didn't take well to his teasing. They'd brought him along because they knew Samantha knew of him already. Two other team members—weapons specialist Jessie Alvarez and medic Maria Denbesten—were nearby in the team SUV. Jack and Arnie were taking no chances with a rookie.

"Sam," she said with a smile as she accepted his outstretched hand.

"So you're the reason my desktop has plants," he said conversationally.

"They're leeks, one of the national plants of Wales. I hoped your captain would pick up on it."

Jack grinned. "Not my favorite part of Wales. I liked the dragons in the Archives better." Ianto would have arched an eyebrow; Jack was still trying to decide if he'd have been irritated or amused. Or both.

"My next trick was to get one of the computers speaking with a Welsh accent," she said with a smirk. Frankie smiled slightly. Arnie rolled his eyes.

"Now that _was_ one of my favorite parts of Wales," said Jack with a grin. "All those beautiful vowels." He turned to Sam, and his breath caught again as she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm sure that constitutes some form of harassment, sir," she said. His mind reeled as he heard those same words in another Welsh accent, coming from a mouth set beneath another upturned nose and pair of blue eyes, but he couldn't let his grief out. Not now. He shot her a saucy wink instead.

"So, Arnie, what have we got?"

TW TW TW TW

Sam sat at one of the tables in front of the café, holding her head in her hands. Her one chance to get in, to achieve the dream she'd had for so long, and she'd screwed it up royally.

It should have been easy. The rift had deposited what looked for all the world like a curling iron from the 1950's. Captain Harkness and Mr. Wright had been scanning it while Officer Hilliard stood to the side, but she'd gone forward to pick it up, thinking that as the newbie they were leaving it for her. Wright had shouted at her to stop, but it was too late. She'd already touched it.

A bolt of light shot out of it and struck Frankie Hilliard, who had fallen to the ground. Before any of them could get to him, he'd jumped back up with an expression of manic glee and gone tearing off down the street. It had taken them two hours to track him down through residential districts as he jumped fences and knocked over garbage cans and barked at dogs and generally caused mayhem. He'd giggled wildly as they held him long enough for the team medic, whose name she'd not been given, to inject him with a sedative. The rest of the team had taken him back to the secret base she now knew was called the Ranch; only Captain Jack Harkness remained.

"I imagine you're going to offer me a glass of water to calm down," she said finally as she forced herself to look up at him. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm from Cardiff, Captain. Everyone knows that Torchwood offers something to drink, and then you don't remember what happened." She dropped her gaze. "I won't fight it. I hardly expect you to allow me to remember your team after I demonstrated gross incompetence."

Harkness dropped into the chair beside her, chuckling slightly. "I'm reminded of another person's first day. Some of the rest of us were tossing tools back and forth, so she decided she'd join in. Unlike us though, she missed and accidentally released an alien gas that killed about a dozen people before we managed to contain it."

Sam gasped in horror. "What happened to her?"

"She's now the head of Torchwood Cardiff." Sam jerked her head up to meet his eyes. His gaze was serious as he continued. "You're human. You're going to make mistakes. Because of who we are and what we do, sometimes mistakes get people killed. You're lucky that yours didn't, but you might not be so lucky next time."

"Next time, sir?"

"You made a mistake, yes. But the point isn't you being perfect. The point is how you deal with discovering you're not. You stayed cool and in control even though you were afraid of what would happen. You shouldered the blame without whining about it, and you were willing to accept a punishment that would destroy your dreams. Those are the sorts of qualities I need."

"You mean…"

"Welcome to Torchwood, Samantha Gordon."


	2. June 2024

"Sam, could you hand me that doohickey?"

"Is it safe? I had a terrible time explaining to Val why my skin was blue for three days," replied Sam, regarding the Torchwood Archivist balefully. Brenna MacAllister's face was obscured by her masses of red curls, so the look was wasted.

"Yes. I'm 95% sure that's just a children's game."

"That's what you said about the device that shrunk Rice," added Jessie Alvarez, the team's weapons specialist. "Though that was a nice three days while we figured it out. He was almost impossible to hear when he was the size of a mouse," she added in Sam's direction. "Wouldn't wish it on you though."

"Thanks," said Sam drily, causing both of the other women to laugh. She picked up the object in question and handed it to Brenna, who brushed her hair out of her face enough to smile at her.

"All right. I'll just enter this in and then switch to the real reason you came out this far." Brenna made a few keystrokes on her keyboard and then switched to a spreadsheet prominently labeled as "I Had a Boyfriend."

"Twin acrobats," said Jessie, flipping her dark braid over her shoulder. "Which I think is a repeat, but still amusing."

"Yeah, he told me that one last year," said Brenna. "What was the context?"

"Rice bursting into the room."

"I think mine was the same. That's uncharacteristically boring for Jack."

Sam shook her head. She'd been with Torchwood for nearly six months, and things weren't quite as she expected. The St. Louis rift wasn't as active as the Cardiff rift she remembered from her childhood, so the team had a lot of downtime. Brenna and Jessie chose to use some of that downtime to track Jack Harkness's random references to old boyfriends.

Solomon Rice, technical lead, and Maria Denbesten, team medic, both rolled their eyes at the game, and Arnie Wright and Frankie Hilliard just grinned whenever the topic came up, but Sam found it mildly amusing. She'd found herself drawn to bouncy Brenna and sardonic Jessie from the start, much more so than to dour Rice or cool Maria. Joining in their game had given her an in to talk to them, but she'd quickly found it more intriguing than she'd expected.

Jack was only around once or twice a month, but when he was, he often mentioned his apparently myriad ex-boyfriends, and any time one of them heard, they'd make note and it would go on Brenna's spreadsheet. Jessie just enjoyed the variety, but Brenna was determined to figure out which of the stories were real. The acrobats were marked as probably not true. Sam, however, had been given a story that she was pretty sure was the truth.

"He complimented my shirt," she told the others.

"And?" asked Jessie pointedly.

"Mentioned that he'd figured I'd look good in red because he had a boyfriend with my coloring who had."

"Oooh!" cried Brenna, fingers flying over her keypad. "That's a new one. How did he look?"

"Distant, a little sad."

"Really?" Jessie looked at Brenna.

"Coffee Boyfriend," they said together.

"This is the first reference in months," said Brenna excitedly, and Sam arched an eyebrow.

"Most of the 'I Had A Boyfriends' are lighthearted, kind of silly," explained Jessie as Brenna started to cross-reference the red comment. "But every so often, he says something that clearly makes him a little sad. It's the same look he gets when he drinks a cup of really good coffee."

"When we first started the game, Arnie told us how Jack had once mentioned that he had a boyfriend who made the world's best coffee," said Brenna. "References to him always have that sad distance. Jack's usually the love 'em and leave 'em type, but we think this relationship ended with the boyfriend's death." She glanced at her screen. "Ooh, Jessie, this goes right along with that comment he made to you about the UNIT caps."

"I hate those caps," was the muttered reply. Jessie had been with UNIT before being recruited to Torchwood. She'd gleefully abandoned the uniforms for her favored jeans and cowboy boots. The dress code at Torchwood seemed very casual. Brenna was also usually in jeans, in her case paired with t-shirts that advertised her favorite things. Today's declared her a member of House Ravenclaw; yesterday's had been Batgirl, and the day before that had informed the world that the odds were never in her favor. Sam couldn't bring herself to be quite that casual—she was usually in jeans, but stuck to nice tops, generally of the button down variety.

"How many?" asked Frankie's deep voice. He stood leaning on the doorway, hands in his pockets and a slight smile on his face.

"Just two, but one was to Coffee Boyfriend!" Sam tuned out as Brenna waxed rhapsodic about the game. Frankie listened with a fond grin, his blue eyes warm. Jessie shot a look at Sam, who raised an eyebrow. Brenna was the only one who hadn't noticed Frankie's crush on her.

"So, you have plans for the night?" asked Jessie.

"Promised Val that we could go out for dinner as long as the Rift stays quiet. Not that I phrased it like that…"

"Yeah. Hope it does. I would enjoy having the time to watch as my Cubbies take out those Redbirds."

"In your dreams, Alvarez," retorted Frankie without looking up from Brenna's spreadsheet. Jessie laughed.

"I should make you all watch a rugby match," said Sam with a grin, but before she could elaborate further, an alarm went off. In seconds, she was running down the halls towards the Ranch's central area (known as "the Barn") with Jessie and Frankie on her heels and Brenna admonishing them to have fun and be careful.

Arnie stood in the center of the Barn, looking over Rice's shoulder at a monitor. "Rift alert at the corner of Forsyth and Big Bend. That's your territory, Sam, so you'll be going with Jessie and Frankie to check it out."

"Any indicators?" asked Jessie as the three of them strapped on weapons and grabbed their windbreakers. Those Torchwood offices in the U.S. had found that American police responded to them better if they wore the sorts of jackets used by police forces and the FBI. They didn't like it, but they respected their authority more.

"Looks artificial, like something did it on purpose," reported Rice. "Something fairly large, from the looks of it. Possibly Jack's ego."

"Save it for when he's here to get the rise out of," responded Arnie. "Doesn't seem to be moving much, so may not be alive, but I've got Maria on standby nonetheless."

Sam looked closely at the scanner as Frankie rocketed the SUV out of the underground garage, making a sharp left. Rice often commented that Clayton rolled up the sidewalks at 6 PM, and though rude, he wasn't entirely wrong. It was only 6:30, but traffic was nearly nonexistent. It took little time to go the two miles to the designated corner; she was still sorting through the data when they ground to a halt.

"Well, I may not have gone to Wash. U., but I'm pretty sure I don't remember having seen a telephone booth on campus," said Jessie.

"In the Superman comics, they were usually red or white, not blue," added Frankie. Sam snapped her head up to look.

"A police box," she marveled. "An old style police box. I've only ever seen pictures of one. But where did it come from?"

"A blue police box?" came Brenna's voice over the comms. Sam could practically hear her bouncing. "In the wrong place? It has to be the Doctor! You have to get out and meet him."

Just as they were getting out of the SUV, the doors of the police box opened and a figure all but tumbled out. Jessie, who had training as a field medic, darted forward to check on him, Sam on her heels. Frankie stood back, his weapon in his hand but at his side.

The man looked human-Sam pegged him as thirty or maybe thirty-five, tall and lanky with messy brown hair. The eyes that looked up at them were brown, and the smile that accompanied them was slightly manic. "Hello there!"

"Hello, sir," Sam replied.

"Welcome to St. Louis, Doctor," added Jessie with a grin.

"St. Louis?" the man repeated as he looked up at them. His grin faded as he looked closely at their jackets. "You're Torchwood!"

"Yes, sir. Torchwood 8 at your service," said Frankie.

"Torchwood 8? What year is this?"

"2024, sir," said Sam evenly.

"I was aiming for 2009," he said, sounding perplexed. "I'm not usually off that much. Must be the voilecanths."

"Voilecanths?" repeated Jessie and Frankie. Sam merely raised an eyebrow.

"Vortex dwellers," supplied the Doctor as he got to his feet and began dusting off his blue suit. "Like to feed on the energy given off by the Tardis. Fortunately they don't do any damage, but they do tend to drain power pretty quickly. I popped out looking to refuel in this handy rift you have here."

Sam smiled at him, ignoring Brenna's eager voice in her ear. "Can we offer you anything, Doctor? Perhaps a cup of tea?"

He smiled broadly. "Tea sounds fantastic. Allons-y!"

The Doctor was thrilled to be in the SUV, babbling about how he did lots of walking and running, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd ridden in a car. He talked for all of the—admittedly short—distance back to the Ranch. Brenna was waiting for them as they parked, bouncing excitedly on her toes.

"Hello, Doctor! It's wonderful to meet you," she bubbled as soon as the man was out of the vehicle. "I'm Brenna MacAllister, Torchwood Archivist." She led him back into the Barn where he was introduced to Arnie, Maria, and Rice while Sam fetched the promised cup of tea and tried to figure out how quickly she could make an excuse to get out for dinner with Val. On the one hand, the odds of getting to meet the Doctor again were low. On the other, canceling this date would possibly do irreparable damage to her increasingly fragile relationship with her boyfriend.

Torchwood 8 might have a lot of downtime, but the Rift was unpredictable despite Sam's and Rice's best efforts with forecasting. This meant a lot of times where Sam had to cancel plans at the last minute. Since she also couldn't give him details on why, Val was getting increasingly irritated with her. And while she found that frustrating, she couldn't entirely blame him.

And as she excused herself from the group chatting animatedly with the Doctor, she hoped that she'd manage to get through dinner just this once.

TW TW TW TW

Brenna was never happier than when she was in the archives examining something. She loved to look at things, try to figure them out, and then find the perfect place to file each and every one. Since she was Torchwood's only archivist, her artifacts had come from all over. The offices in New York, Los Angeles, and Calgary often sent items in, but much of her treasure trove had been dug out of the remains of the old Torchwood Three Hub that had been destroyed by a bomb in 2009.

Ironically, some of that was in the best order, categorized through a lot of incredibly neat notes signed merely I.J. She'd been with Torchwood a whole year before locating something signed I. Jones in the same handwriting—generating an image of a man wearing a fedora and carrying a whip.

Tonight she was going through a section and making sure everything was properly labeled and filed. Since the ever-efficient Indiana Jones had left extensive notes on a number of items in the section, she was gleefully passing the time enjoying his dry wit. Brenna was just filing what he had identified as an alien lock pick when she heard an odd sound, like something metal sliding across the floor.

"Jessie? Frankie?" she called. She doubted it would be either of them—the baseball game was on, so if they were here they'd be glued to the TV. But Sam was out with her boyfriend and Rice and Maria never came to the archives if they could help it. "Arnie?"

"Just me," came an accented voice, and Brenna immediately relaxed.

"Sorry, Doctor," she said cheerily. "When I get buried in my artifacts I lose all track of whatever else has gone on in a day so I forgot you were here."

"Well I like that," he said, flashing a grin that told her he was teasing. "My first ever visit to Torchwood 8 and you forgot me."

"Actually, it's not your first visit," replied Brenna, pushing her glasses up her nose. "At least, not on our timeline. I understand you visited once in 2017. Arnie's the only one still here from then, though I think Rice came along within a year."

"Wibbly, wobbly, timey wimey," said the Doctor cheerily. "Don't tell me anymore about it then. No telling when that'll be for me, so I might as well not know too much. How long have you been here?"

"Since 2020, just after I finished my Ph.D. Jack recruited me personally, said Torchwood needed an archivist. I'm a sci-fi and fantasy geek at heart, so once I learned it involved aliens, there was no stopping me. Haven't regretted it for a second." Brenna was reaching for the next artifact in the drawer when she heard the scraping sound again. "Could you please stop doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"I don't know, whatever's making that sound. I hate metallic scraping, makes me shiver."

"That's not a machine you've got going in the next room?"

"No, I don't run anything out here. Might disrupt the testing of my artifacts."

"Well, that's not good then, is it?" mused the Doctor, pulling an item—_his sonic screwdriver_,cheered Brenna's inner geek—out of his pocket and pressing a button on it. She leaned closer trying to read what it said, but to no avail. She was so intent on the screwdriver that she didn't notice the change in his expression until he grabbed her arm. "We have to go now."

"What? Why?" she asked, though she put up no protest. Brenna had been with Torchwood long enough to know that when someone in the know had _that_ expression, it was very bad.

"I'm not positive as it's doing a good job of hiding, but I think it's a Cybermat," he said as he pulled her towards the door.

"Cybermat? Like Cybermen? Like the things that took down Torchwood One?" Brenna had read every scrap of info she could get on the fall of Torchwood Tower after Sam had joined, curious about what had happened to her friend's father. She went pale at her recollections, reaching up to tap the earpiece she wore. "Arnie, Code 7 incursion. Initiate a lockdown immediately, but I'll need about two minutes for the Doctor and I to get out of the archives."

"Understood," came Jessie's voice in response.

"Talk to me, Brenna," ordered Arnie at almost the same time.

Brenna broke into a run as she and the Doctor turned a corner and came to one of the few straight corridors in the archives—being only a few feet beneath the surface, most of the Ranch had to wind around the sewer and electrical lines of the city above. As she ran, she repeated what the Doctor had just told her.

"We're clear," she added at the end as she followed the Doctor out of the archives and slammed the portal-like door between them and the corridor that led to the Barn. "Confirm lockdown." She paused a moment, breathing heavily.

"Come on, Brenna. Allons-y," said the Doctor impatiently.

"Easy for you to say. You're a foot taller than me and probably in better shape," she snapped in reply. "Just go on ahead."

"Oh no, I'm not falling into that trap. I've seen plenty of horror movies, and splitting up never ends well."

"True enough," agreed Brenna, surprised that she managed a laugh as well. "I'm good now, but if you can control those long legs just a bit..."

"Got it." He shot her a grin as he hurried along. "Martha Jones had a fondness for them, insisted on watching them in the Tardis. Scared us both silly."

"I wouldn't have pegged her for that. Of course, now she's married with two kids, which does tend to change a person," said Brenna.

"How do you know Martha?"

"She's the head of Torchwood Five in London. Well, her and Mickey."

"Mickey the Idiot is in charge of Torchwood London?" The Doctor sounded intrigued. "Well, at least we can call him if things get bad. Always good to have the word of an expert."

Brenna said nothing further. She knew Mickey Smith's background—what wasn't in the archives, Sam had hacked into at some point or another. There was a dearth of information on previous Torchwood employees—which was why she didn't know Indiana Jones's real name—but current ones had pretty thorough files even when said files were as insane as the ones belonging to Mickey and Martha Smith. The only exception was Jack Harkness.

"What do you have?" asked Brenna as she and the Doctor came into the Barn.

"Nothing much," replied Rice as he fiddled with something on his workstation. "Some odd readings, but not enough to identify."

"Cybermat," said the Doctor. "Precursor and scout for the Cyberman. Probably latched onto the Tardis in 1851, got pulled along with me. Guess it wasn't voilecanths draining power, then."

"Only one?" asked Arnie as his fingers flew over a keyboard and the screen changed to show a map of St. Louis. The Doctor looked over his shoulder, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the screen.

"Yup, looks like just one," said the Doctor after a few minutes.

"Lucky us," said Jessie drily. "Options?"

"Destroy it," said the Doctor flatly.

"Decidedly," agreed Jessie as she checked the weapon in her hands. "We know what happened at Torchwood Tower, sir. I meant how."

"It's locked in the Archives right now," put in Brenna. "They're completely sealed, no way in or out during lockdown—not even air can get through," she added for the Doctor's benefit. "Of course, if it's intelligent, that means it has access to all of my files."

"It's intelligent enough for that to be a problem," said the Doctor.

"Does it have access to our network?" asked Rice without looking up from his keyboard. "Would it be able to hack us?"

"Or would we be able to hack it?" asked Arnie. "Brenna, get in touch with Sam. We all know she can get into the Torchwood systems from anywhere, so have her work on it. You monitor from here. Jessie and Rice, you're with us." Arnie looked at the Doctor. "At least, I'm assuming you're coming along."

"Couldn't force me to stay behind. We'll go in pairs, flush it out."

"Jessie, with the Doctor," ordered Arnie. Brenna spotted the look he gave her friend. Jessie was the better in the field than Rice—she'd be on guard duty of their guest. A sharp nod confirmed the message was received.

"Be careful," she warned them as she dialed Sam.

TW TW TW TW

_And dinner had been going so well_, sighed Sam as she reached for her phone. Val, who had been smiling all evening, looked thunderous. At least they'd gotten through dinner and had even eaten most of their dessert.

Brenna started speaking before Sam could even say hello. It took less than two seconds for the blood to drain from her face. Her expression was severe enough that Val forgot his ire and looked concerned. After promising Brenna that she'd get on it, she looked at Val. "We need to go home now. I'm sorry, really sorry, but we have to do it now."

"You're not going in?" asked Val as he signaled the waiter.

"Can't. They're on lockdown, so no way in. I need to get to my laptop." Normally she carried it with her, but she'd left it behind tonight as a sign of good faith to Val.

"Lockdown?" repeated Val incredulously. Sam ignored the question.

Fortunately they'd only gone as far as the Delmar Loop for dinner, so it took just minutes to back. Sam had her earpiece on and her laptop up in seconds. "Brenna, I'm here."

"What the fuck, Sam?" demanded Val.

"The Doctor and Jessie are moving to the left, Rice and Arnie to the right, starting at the portal," reported Brenna at the same time. "No sign of the damn thing yet."

"You're sure on what it is?" asked Sam, mindful of Val.

"The Doctor is. I'll take his word on that." Brenna's voice was clipped and efficient, far from her usual energetic tones. "We need you to hack it."

"You want me to hack a Cyberman?" repeated Sam incredulously. "I'm good, Brenna, but I'm not that good." She brought up a map of the archives, watching the dots that were Arnie, Rice, Jessie, and the Doctor moving through it.

"Yes, you are that good," returned Arnie, his voice quiet but firm. "Get on it, Samantha."

Not wanting to risk cross contamination, Sam took a moment to disconnect her laptop from everything except the signal she needed, dropping even the Torchwood Mainframe. The last thing she needed was Cyberman programming infecting anything beyond her laptop.

"Sam, what is going on?" demanded Val. He sounded worried and confused. "Just what is it you do?"

"Later, Val. I promise I'll explain later," she said without looking up. And she would keep the promise…as soon as she located the small bottle of Retcon she kept in her bag. It was safer for all of them—especially him—if he didn't know about Torchwood.

TW TW TW TW

Jessie peeked around another corner to find more nothing. Okay, nothing wasn't quite fair—there were plenty of file drawers and dust, but that wasn't what she needed.

"I am slightly reminded of The Library," muttered the Doctor behind her. "At least there aren't any Vashta Nerada."

"I'm going to assume that's a good thing," said Jessie, rolling her eyes.

"A very good thing." He sounded like he was going to elaborate, but before he could, Sam's voice came over the comms.

"I'm in."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed the Doctor as he and Jessie came to a halt.

"I don't think I can control it, but I do have access to its optic scanners."

"Can you patch them through?" demanded Brenna.

"I don't want to risk Mainframe," replied Sam. "But I bet you can figure it out if I describe it."

Jessie paid attention to Sam's descriptions—she'd probably logged the most time down here other than Brenna herself—but she didn't usually look from a height of six inches. It took ten minutes before Brenna declared a decisive answer.

"Section H7, headed east."

"We're in H10," said Jessie. "Directly in its path."

"On our way," reported Arnie. "Contain it, Jess."

"Stay behind me, Doctor. I've got a weapon, you don't," she added when he started to protest.

"I have a screwdriver," he said anyway.

"I can see boots! It knows you're there, Jessie!"

"Shit!" Jessie swung her weapon around and squeezed off two rounds almost before she'd registered where it was. One of the two struck the small metallic object that was hurtling towards her. She shot it twice more as she flung herself to the side to get out of its way. The Doctor tumbled to the ground behind her as the cybermat flew by.

"The bullets didn't even slow it!" she shouted. "Arnie, it got past us."

"You did some damage," reported the Doctor, looking at his screwdriver. "But I think we'll need a bigger gun."

"Moving into Section H-12," reported Sam's voice on the comms. "And I think I just saw Rice's shoes."

Jessie leaped to her feet and dashed after it, coming up behind just in time to watch as it extended some sort of appendage towards Arnie. Shots rang out as she, Rice, and Arnie all fired, with Jessie aiming for the stick-like extension. Her bullet hit, but not before the cybermat unleashed an electric shock on Arnie, causing his hand to spasm and pull his trigger again. The shot went wild—right into Jessie's calf.

"SHIT!" she shouted as her leg crumpled beneath her.

"This is why I don't like guns!" shouted the Doctor.

"Brenna, get Maria in here!" yelled Rice. Shots rang out, probably from him. It was hard to tell from her position on the floor. She heard skittering as the thing moved away again. "Stay down," shouted Rice. Jessie could tell from the sound that this was a different weapon. As soon as he'd fired, Rice dropped to the ground beside her, pulling the Doctor down with him. Seconds later came the explosion.

"Got it," crowed Rice.

"Congratulations," growled Jessie as she inspected her leg. _In and out, thankfully. Not nearly as bad as the last time._ At least she could do preliminary work on it herself. "How's Arnie?"

"All right," managed the man himself. "Feeling a little scrambled, but your shot kept it from being too much."

"And you repay me with a shot in the leg. Thanks, boss." Arnie let out a short laugh as the Doctor scanned them both with his screwdriver.

"I think you'll be all right," he proclaimed. "Though a doctor—a medical doctor, not me—would probably be a good idea."

"Maria's on the way," announced Brenna, who was presumably watching on the CCTV. "ETA fifteen minutes. Rice, what's the status of our invader?"

"Bits," he replied. "Pretty small ones."

"I'm not reading anything electronically either, though I'm going to have to scrub my hard drive before I risk connecting it to anything again," reported Sam.

"Lift the lockdown, Brenna," said Arnie as he struggled to his feet. "Jessie, do you think you can make it to the Barn?"

Jessie looked at her leg. She'd wrapped her belt around it to control the bleeding, but the bullet had hit the meaty part of her calf. It hurt like hell, but the damage shouldn't be too severe. "With help."  
The Doctor got her to her feet and let her lean on him. Arnie insisted he could go under his own power. They left Rice to deal with the pieces of the cybermat.

TW TW TW TW

Sam entered the rather ratty-looking insurance office that served as Torchwood 8's front and offered a smile to the fiftyish woman behind the desk.

"Good morning, Samantha," replied Angela cheerily. "Mr. Wright asked me to buzz you right in when you arrived."

"I imagine he did." Sam grimaced.

"I'll be sending for lunch from Bread Co., dear, so let me know what you want by eleven," she added before returning to her typing. Angela always kept up appearances, in case someone was listening. She was, however, fully briefed on Torchwood and most likely what she was typing was a report on the previous evening's incident.

Arnie had told Sam to stay home and keep an eye on Val, who had gone in to teach this morning fully convinced that the restaurant had misunderstood their drink order and brought them much more alcohol than they'd intended. It galled her to have done that to him, but she knew she had no choice, not if she wanted him to stay safely away from Torchwood.

She went into the office that had Arnie's name on the door and took the secret elevator down to the Ranch. The only person immediately visible was Maria, who stood over by the coffee machine. The medic looked extremely frustrated.

"Please tell me you can make this thing give me something drinkable," she said as Sam approached. "I'm going to need it to deal with Jessie."

"How is she?"

"Insufferable, which probably means she'll recover quickly." Maria ran a hand through her blonde hair, though she still managed to look perfect. Sam had wasted more time than she should have trying to figure out how she did that. "Hopefully she won't drive me to drinking before she does."

"How's Arnie?"

"Fine enough to have called a meeting in five minutes. Jessie will be joining by video conference, as I won't let her climb the stairs." Maria accepted the cup of coffee that Sam had just finished and breathed a sigh of relief. "Bless you, Sam."

Maria was grateful enough to help Sam carry the coffee—and a cup of tea for the Doctor—up to the office. That in itself was unusual—the medic generally considered herself above such things. Sam settled into her seat.

After everyone had the full report—including Val's response to Retcon—Sam volunteered to take the Doctor back to the Tardis. He was gleeful to be back in the SUV, chattering again about how infrequently he got to ride. But as Sam parked the vehicle on campus—thankfully quiet over the summer—he looked at her oddly.

"You know, there's something familiar about you. Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Pretty sure, sir," Sam replied. "Though perhaps you met my father. He died at Canary Wharf."

The Doctor winced. "Quite the debacle, that. I'm very sorry." He paused, but Sam said nothing. "I think it's more recent, though."

"It will probably come to you just after you leave," said Sam drily, and the Doctor laughed.

"You're probably right," he said with a grin.

Sam walked with him to the Tardis, and he shook her hand enthusiastically at the door. "It's been brilliant, Samantha. Completely brilliant. Never thought I'd have such a time with Torchwood after Canary Wharf, but that's Captain Jack for you. Good man who recruits a good crew. But I best get back to 2009—friends to visit there and all. Take care."

"You as well, Doctor," she said with a smile before stepping back to watch as the police box disappeared with a strange grinding sound. _I wonder who I remind him of….._


End file.
